


Crimson sands

by Roselyn



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Blood, Blood Kink, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Doctor/Patient, Ejaculation, Gunshot Wounds, Kimblee is an interesting little fucker, Near Death Experiences, Other, Pain, Pain Kink, feeling pain, getting aroused by pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 21:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19912228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roselyn/pseuds/Roselyn
Summary: Zolf J. Kimblee survived Ishval, but what no one knows, is that he took a bullet once.





	Crimson sands

The blood was bright red on his fingers, almost crimson. 

Zolf. J. Kimblee smirked softly, studying the crimson substance, the very embodiment of his craft, staining the blue toned solar transmutation circle on his palm.  
Seeing it stained like this, with color so warm and unnaturally bright in the surrounding sands, felt appropriate somehow. Almost artistic. 

There was a second bang of a gun being shot in a distance. A sign the sniper had gotten the one who had shot him. 

Kimblee marveled at the sound for a moment, echoing from the walls of the collapsed buildings, reflecting back, resonating in his ears. 

That sound, amplified like that had made his ears to ring. Made his blood to sing and flow hotter in his veins. A pity some of that blood was spilling out, staining his flawlessly white tank top beneath the hand that pressed the bullet hole in his lower stomach. 

Kimblee flicked his tongue out to wet a dry lip. The sun was bright in his eyes, on his back as he was. He wondered if the bullet had gone through and the golden sand beneath him was getting moist with his blood, spreading, red, blooming in full flower like a desert rose. 

He found the thought incredibly arousing, somehow. 

Beneath his arousal dwelled shame. 

He had walked into an ambush. 

That’s what you got by being too excited by your work. 

By being distracted. 

It wouldn’t happen again. 

Kimblee was amused by his own thoughts. Bitterly so. 

What an inconvenient way to die. Shot by a common soldier, hiding within the shadows of the crumbling towers. How embarrassing it was, especially when another sniper had stolen his kill. 

But this was his battle field. And he would die on it. 

Time passed on slowly. Only pain kept him company. 

Kimblee didn’t mind the pain, not even the slightest. It was an intoxicating feeling, hot and cold at the same time. Sharp, yet gentle as a lover’s touch —washing over him as smooth white waves. 

The feeling reminded him of the day he had gotten his tattoos. How the needle had sunk deep into his skin. How the pointy end had ravaged his nerve endings. 

His will had been tested on that day. He hadn’t curled his fingers, even though the pain had tried to force him to, Kimblee remembered with pride. 

He smiled a satisfied smile to the memory, closing his eyes for a moment. The hand pressing his wound was becoming slack, mostly just resting on the crimson stain on his belly. 

He pressed slightly harder, his pupil dilating as a new dimension of pure white took him in its prickling embrace. 

The sensation was enough to force a series of tiny gasps out of him. This —This was something else. Almost pleasurable. A sign he was still alive. 

The sun had moved slightly by the time there were noises. 

The noise was coming from soldiers, Kimblee noticed, watching the horizon through half closed lids. There was sweat at his brow and upper lip, making his skin taste salty.

The uniforms were blue. 

They were friends. 

A young man with blonde hair and blue eyes hurried to Kimblee’s side. He looked worried, alarmed, pained. 

It was funny. The lad wasn’t the one who had been shot. 

“Major Kimblee! You’re alive! We have one who’s alive!”

Yes. If he wasn’t dead then he was obviously alive. 

Kimblee studied the man’s face for a moment, before turning his eyes towards the remains of his squad. They had come out of hiding after the sniper had ended the threat, now spread around him, rifles in hand, observing, guardian him with their life. 

Kimblee wished they would have been observant a little earlier. But then again, he had fallen a victim, along with two others. The other two were dead, no doubt. Their brains decorated the never-ending sands now. Kimblee himself had almost managed to dodge. Almost. 

It was a thing he could still be slightly smug about. 

“Hold still,” the lad told, sounding almost panicky while lifting Kimblee’s bloodied shirt. The lad’s hands were tattooed as well, it appeared. 

An alchemist doctor, then, Kimblee thought with dry amusement, licking his lips. There was a mild taste of blood at the back of his throat. 

It appeared the odds of his survival had increased dramatically. 

Kimblee lay down quietly as the lad studied him, running cool hands on his stomach, occasionally applying pressure. There was certain beauty in it; that his healing touch provided him with pain. The pain from the bullet hole was radiating straight to his groin, making his cock hard. 

“The bullet is still inside. . . We need to get this man to a medical zone!”

“No,” Kimblee told, grabbing the lad’s wrist. “Get it out of me, now. Please.”

The lad hesitated. “If I remove it here, I’m afraid you’ll bleed to death. Besides, I don’t have the needed instruments with me; the bullets are always removed at the medical zone.”

Kimblee thought his words for a moment. “Were you sent to look for me?” he then inquired huskily.

“One of your men came to snatch me off a different patrol. I came as soon as I heard. . .” he glanced towards the other two bodies. 

“Where are the men of your squad, do they know you’re here, of what happened?” 

“Two of them accompanied me, the rest went on. They know there might be casualties. I’d like to move you to a medical zone.” 

Kimblee hummed silently to his words. “Do your job, doctor. Take the bullet out. Now, here. Dig it out with your fingers is you have to. That’s an order. After. . . After I’ll show you something that gets me up and going in a blink of an eye.” 

The doctor’s hands were oddly cool on his exposed belly. Gentle. Too gentle. His eyes wandered briefly to his erection.

“You may lose your consciousness,” the lad warned. 

Kimblee doubted it, but nodded. He used the time to bring up the stone. It was more difficult now, with the pain, with the need of his muscles to be relaxed so the doctor could perform his duty. 

The stone scraped at his throat as the doctor slipped his fingers into the wound, making Kimblee’s eyes water slightly. 

The doctor’s fingers moved in his stomach, slowly reaching for the bullet. 

The sensation was most delicious. Too complex to be described. 

It was difficult for Kimblee to stop himself from squirming at the extreme sensation. 

His hands scraped at the sand as his neck arched, his muscled tightening. His tongue wrapped around the stone in his mouth, fondling it, squeezing it, keeping it still in a pink adept cage. 

The young doctor removed the bulled with a small yank, making Kimblee cry out as his hand shot up to his widened wound.

His cry had sounded sufficiently pained, he believed, to cover up the fact he had just ejaculated. 

“Now, make me a new man, doctor,” Kimblee murmured, pressing the stone in the lad’s hand. He was bleeding heavier now, blood bubbling out of him as a crimson fountain. 

The lad marveled at the stone for a moment, but obeyed. 

After a bright flash, there weren’t even scars to tell Kimblee had been wounded. 

“What is this thing?” the lad asked, as Kimblee reached to take the priceless red shard off his hands. 

“Something that . . . completes me. I thank you, for your assistance, doctor,” said Kimblee, and clapped his hands together –oh– so gently.


End file.
